farewell

by Zoe Wong

The time has come.

Light fades from the sky Night falls, marking the end. The wind dies Darkness has become an unusual friend

My beloved, keep faith

Remember: where there is great grief once stood great love

We are rivers flowing in the direction we choose, my dear, and at the end Of the journey all merges with the sea Whilst life must end, my love won’t have to. My soul won’t leave you – I will coalesce with the deep blue, Rise amongst golden rays, present pillowy patterns; Whatever you need to see.

The time has come

So on days when the grief gets so intense that silvery streams slide down Your face, when there is no oxygen in the air But everyone else breathes in just fine, Sobs are stuck in your throat, Nihilism, no Hope, You cry out, Face in distorted distress, Wails of guilt and torment

As you yearn for Time to be kinder

Remember: the sorrow of death is the proof of love

Mourn no more, lament no more, Celebrate the collection of memories that we call Life … The time has come

I enter the final phrase, Of the final sentence and the final chapter Here sounds my final blessèd heart, it is a beating drum –A joyous, youthful, ambitious drum, Sounding proudly in its last performance to the melody of life! I hear them calling. Lost brothers and sisters. The beats start to slow

My child, the time has come

Farewell, farewell, farewell

Death happens in the blink of an eye, there one second, gone the next.

I stand in the sterile bleak room, next to the love of my life. My cheeks wet with tears, my head thunders with one constant repeating thought: Don’t blink.

I cannot, will not miss it, not a second of her beauty, a second of her kindness, a second of her laugh, her smile. Maybe if I never let an opportunity arise for her to slip away, maybe, just maybe, she’ll be okay.

My heart beats like thunder seeking to annihilate the world. The only thing keeping me in this realm of the living is the slow steady beep of the machine. She’s alive, she's alive, she’s alive. Maybe if I say it enough it will stay that way.

But it doesn’t

Doctors rush in as the steady beat of her heart stops. I fall to my knees with her hand still in mine, but I can feel the thumps in her wrist cease. My tears spill over, and as they declare her death, I can feel my own heart being shredded, a gaping hole left inside me.

I am empty; I am nothing.

Iris Hemberg